


Homeward Bound (Come My Darling)

by Honeymoron



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22662706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeymoron/pseuds/Honeymoron
Summary: Honeymaren walks to the edge of the forest one day. It was like any other trip she had before. Well maybe except for the fact that she gets attacked by an unlikely enemy and has a fateful meeting with a stranger.
Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 53





	Homeward Bound (Come My Darling)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my first Elsamaren fic! The first few chapters will be Elsamaren-centric and Enchanted Forest based. We will meet Kristoff, Anna and Olaf later in the story.
> 
> (This story deals with PTSD and may be triggering. Please read at your own risk.)

Honeymaren knows she shouldn’t come to this part of the forest. Especially not alone. And especially not in the wee hours of the afternoon, when the sun’s about to set.

But that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t.

And that doesn’t mean she hasn’t.

And that doesn’t mean she isn’t here right now.

She takes in a deep breath, taking time to appreciate the sight in front of her. She’s at the “edge” of the Enchanted Forest – or the end of it for all she knows. Her eyes rake over the thick, pink-and-bluish mist that has harbored their people – the Northuldra – prisoners for more than forty years now. Though extremely foreboding, the mist has always been pretty to her. Yelena and their elders say beyond it is an unlimited expanse of land and sky – something that is hard to imagine for someone like Honeymaren who only had the forest as home and view for all twenty years of her life.

No one has gotten in and out of the mist for decades, they say, ever since the spirits of the forest turned their backs on humans.

Escapades such as this one are Honeymaren’s favorite. She comes here to enjoy the view at least once a month. The leaves are redder and the air is stronger and colder up here. So many of their myths and bedtime stories allude to the dangers of these “wall,” but Honeymaren hasn’t experienced any of that for the past 9 years of going in here that she started believing they might not be true at all. 

Besides, it’s always so beautiful and peaceful here. Their elders must be insane to think otherwise.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a loud crack – like a log that got stepped on by a giant – and she turns around swiftly. Fear clutches at her chest when she realizes that a huge part of the forest is suddenly engulfed in purple blazing fires.

It takes a moment for her brain to process what’s happening, but when it does, her heart immediately stops.

“The fire spirit,” she gasps, wide-eyed, before promptly scanning the area for a plausible path of escape. She had been warned, ever since she was a child, of the perilous flame-shaped spirit hounding near the fog, seemingly waiting for…something.

No harm has ever come to Honeymaren in this part of the forest. Well, not until now, potentially. Maybe it’s not her elders who are insane, after all.

Her inability to side with caution is something she fully regrets now as another big purple fire suddenly erupts on a shrub just a few feet away in front of her, prompting her to step back and spring into action. There is time to reflect on her recklessness – but now’s not it.

Grabbing her spear, which she isn’t sure would be of any help in her present situation, she decides to run back through the trail she used to get here as it is the safest and most familiar to her.

Another whoosh of fire blocks her on the way, successfully halting her.

“Nem,” she coughs out in their native tongue, covering her nose and quickly scanning for clear areas. She runs behind a big tree, close enough to keep her hopefully unseen by the fire spirit, but far enough to not get herself hurt should the tree burns as well.

For one grim second, her mind goes back to her village – to their people and her grandmother Yelena and her brother Ryder. What if she can’t go back to them? What if the last time she saw them was the last?

She holds back her tears and shakes her head. She has to go back; there’s no other option. Be brave and alert. She couldn’t die like this.

Taking a deep breath, she checks around for other safe passages. It’s when she turns her head a little to the right that she notices something for the first time: fire isn’t the only element at play.

Something bluish – water? – is extinguishing several fiery areas. Seemingly fighting it, even.

But how?

Brows furrowed in confusion, she tries to determine the source of the bluish matter. It takes her a while, but she eventually notices…her.

A mass of light gold hair and lithe physique is moving amid the forest background that’s slowly darkening from thick smoke and the setting sun. Honeymaren’s eyes widen as spurts of pale blue light come out of the girl’s hand, effectively putting a stop to several areas on fire.

Her heart skips a beat. Maybe more than a beat.

What is this beautiful magical being?

At first she thinks it’s the water spirit, but from the stories told, none of the spirits take the human form. She watches in awe as the platinum blonde-haired girl focuses her concentration on finding the culprit of the fire. Her face is serious, but it’s also nervous, too, and her movements are a bit frantic. She’s even limping a bit. It makes Honeymaren wonder if the fire spirit attacked first, and the girl is only fighting back in self defense.

She decides to keep hiding behind the tree for now, but grips her spear anyway. The girl might need her help later and she wouldn’t hesitate to. She just has to observe first.

The golden-haired girl is struggling to follow the source of the fire, but Honeymaren can tell that driving her slow and frantic movements is a solid case of alertness. For the first few seconds she swings everywhere blindly, trying to extinguish as much of the fire as she can. It’s mesmerizing to look at and Honeymaren just unashamedly gapes and jogs silently behind trees and bushes to follow her despite the danger she’s in. She realizes another thing after a while: It’s not water that’s coming out of her hands but ice as the areas the girl hits stay frozen.

After a while, the blonde finally catches the source of the fire. In hindsight, it should be hard to find since it’s just a blob of flame and it’s moving quickly. It looks exactly like the rest of the flames that covers a portion of the forest now, but one can tell that it’s the source because of the way it runs from one point to another.

The girl chases after the blob, as fast as her limping legs would carry her. She does not attack it directly, instead trapping it with ice walls on both sides, thereby controlling its direction.

Honeymaren now understands what the girl plans to do, and she watches, awed, as she successfully traps the fire spirit inside a hollowed rock not too far ahead. The girl continues to walk closer towards the rock, both hands glowing in front of her to defend herself from oncoming attacks from the spirit.

Cornered now, the little blob of fire does try to hit the girl with a fire canon but she easily dodges it. It hits the tree behind her instead, and the magical woman extinguishes the fire as fast as it forms.

Honeymaren fears the fire spirit will continue to attack the girl directly now that it’s cornered and she steps out of the shadows, ready to back her up. However, instead of more fire like she expects, nothing happens. In fact, a closer observation would tell her that the two fighting parties are presently just having a...staredown?

Honeymaren watches silently, feet rooted on the spot, as the girl kneels in front of the blob of fire, one hand supporting her body as she goes down and takes a peak at the trapped spirit. Now that much of the adrenaline is gone, Honeymaren can tell how tired the blonde actually seems, panting and shaking slightly as she regards the fire spirit in front of her.

The blob, on its part, starts to cease gradually its flame. And as the fire on its body grows smaller and smaller, Honeymaren starts to see another form take over.

And it makes her jaw drop. Understandably so.

Because the fire spirit, which everyone feared and revered for decades, is a…salamander? A frigging purple, approximately 2-inch tall salamander?

The said salamander tilts its head to the left, watching the blonde curiously. It’s face is full of something that’s akin to uncertainty. To Honeymaren’s amusement, the blonde mirrors the salamander’s movements with equally curious eyes. It is a cute sight, and the Northuldra’s face spontaneously displays a wistful smile despite herself and the situation. The spirit’s fire starts to ebb further and so do some of the remaining flames around the forest as it starts to warm up to the girl.

Honeymaren looks around in wonder before turning her head back to the magical being, who is still staring openly at the salamander.

The fire spirit starts to approach the blonde hesitantly and Honeymaren makes another internal “aww” at the cricket-y sounds it makes as it crawls. The way it moves and its little sounds can melt even the hardest of hearts, for all she knows. The magical woman giggles at the sound, too, and continues to smile invitingly as the small creature tries to approach her. Her face is extremely anxious but she puts a shaking right hand down the ground, palm up, inviting the creature the climb on it.

And it does. It crawls closer and puts one hesitant limb on the girl’s hand. At the first touch, a sizzling sound is heard as the salamander’s hot limb meets the girl’s palm, which Honeymaren only assumes to be ice cold. The salamander must have enjoyed the feeling though, because it smiles and jumps excitedly to the girl’s hand shortly after the first contact.

“Ow, ow, oh,” the girl exclaims as she slowly lifts her palm up and more sizzling sounds are heard as the rest of the salamander’s body gets in contact with her hand. The girl juggles the spirit on both hands, apparently trying to adjust to its heat. After a while the sizzling stops, and the salamander fully relaxes comfortably on the girl’s palm. The anxiety on the girl’s face calms. The salamander also seems to enjoy the contact so, as its body changes in color from purple to blue, and all the remaining flames in the forest disappear completely.

The girl lets out another soft and relieved giggle, watching the creature in her palm with utmost adoration. She uses her left hand to conjure some snowflakes on top of the salamander, and the creature eagerly looks up at them, even taking one into its tongue. More soft giggles come out of the girl, and Honeymaren finds herself smiling again.

Apparently the two are best friends now.

She does not expect this kind of ending to that battle. At all. This girl, whoever she is, is truly something else.

It’s then that she realizes how creepy she must seem, hiding in the shadows, slyly observing another girl. Without much thinking, she puts her spear back in its cradle, clears her throat and walks closer to them.

She realizes she should have thought about it more thoroughly as she startles them both. The girl snaps her head toward Honeymaren’s direction, eyes wide. The salamander, on the other hand, crawls swiftly toward the girl’s left shoulder and regards Honeymaren, its big black eyes, alert.

It’s the first time Honeymaren gets a good look at the girl, and to say she’s dumbfounded would be an understatement. She’s not just beautiful – she’s ethereal. Her pale skin and golden hair glows amid the cold, dark night. Her heart pounds for some reason she can’t explain. Never before had she seen someone so…mesmerizing, and she finds herself rooted on her spot once again.

But there is a black-or-bluish spot on her left check, and despite the fact that they’re only illuminated by the bright moon now, she can tell that those aren’t from the smoke.

That’s a bruise. But how did she get it?

So distracted is she by the mark that she doesn’t immediately notice the absolute terror on the other girl’s face now.

The blonde tries to stand up but she’s apparently weaker and more tired than Honeymaren thought, as her knees buckle under her almost immediately. She stumbles slightly from where she stands but manages to catch herself before she completely topples over. Swaying a bit, her left hand instinctually goes around her midsection and she lets out a pained gasp. Honeymaren sees a red blotch at the area the girl touches, and her stomach immediately drops.

Concerned, she moves towards her to help, but the girl takes it the wrong way and she cowers backward, utterly terrified. She springs so fast and so sudden that her back hits the nearby tree. It looks like it hurt, and Honeymaren winces internally.

Eyes wide as saucers, the magical being lifts both of her hands in front of her as if to protect herself from Honeymaren. The blue glow of her hands should be enough to scare the Northuldra, but they’re trembling so badly that she couldn’t help but be scared for the welfare of the other woman instead. She’s like a terrified baby animal, and Honeymaren’s heart hurts at the sight.

What could have possibly happened to her for her to react this way?

The salamander, still perched on top of the girl’s right shoulder, hisses at Honeymaren and she swallows. The blonde may seem cute and scared and harmless, but the salamander, although equally as cute, might actually give her third-degree burns if she pisses it off. It’s amazing how fast the two of them have formed a bond considering that they were hurling magical ice and fire against each other earlier.

Honeymaren knows she has to tread this lightly.

“I’m not here to fight…or hurt you. That’s the last thing I want to do. I’m here to help,” she says carefully, hoping her tone is soft and sincere enough for the girl to believe. Ryder tells her she has a raspy voice but it’s soothing, too, and she prays he wasn’t kidding when he said that last bit.

“P-please j-just s-stay away,” the girl stammers hoarsely. Her voice is so scared and so small, that Honeymaren is sure she wouldn’t have heard her if she wasn’t paying utmost attention. The blonde turns her powers off and hugs herself. She stares at Honeymaren’s general direction, but is unable to meet her eyes, still shaking.

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine. I’m Honeymaren of the Northuldra tribe. May I know your name?”

The girl still refuses to meet her eyes, moving them downwards, in fact, to stare at Honeymaren’s knees now, her fingers anxiously rubbing at her forearms.

Great. Getting the girl to trust her is harder than Honeymaren thought, but she’s determined. “I-I can see that you’re hurt. You saved my life. From the fire. Let me help you in return. Please?”

She gets no answer again, just some more terrified breaths, so she tries to switch strategies. She takes in the girl’s trembling form, frowning at her scrawny appearance, bruised skin and parched lips.

“I have some food and clean water,” she offers instead, gesturing at her sling bag. She catches the girl swallow a bit at that and takes that as an opportunity to approach.

She takes one step closer, palms open towards the girl to show her that it’s safe. The girl goes rigid but doesn’t shrink back further. Progress. However, she wraps her arms tighter around herself, terrified eyes still begging Honeymaren to stay away.

Well, it’s not going to happen. Honeymaren is anything but determined. 

“You’re safe with me. I promise.”

The girl raises her eyes then, innocent bright blue eyes finally catching Honeymaren’s brown ones. The latter is taken aback not only by their beauty, but also by the fear and the pain she sees in them, and she swallows the lump that suddenly forms in her throat. She gets the sudden urge to hurt whoever’s responsible for putting those heartbreaking emotions in her eyes.

“It’s okay,” she tells her again. “Let me help.”

“I d-don’t want to h-hurt you,” the girl finally whispers, the brokenness in it shattering Honeymaren’s usually tough heart for the nth time that day.

She’s cowering and crying and pleading. It’s impossible for her to hurt Honeymaren even if the latter tempts her to.

“You won’t hurt me,” she responds with a calm smile. “You’re too nice. Besides, I’m armored, charming and tough.”

The girl doesn’t say anything this time, her face still scrunched up from fear and maybe discomfort. Honeymaren pulls a wooden container of water from her sling bag, takes its lid off, and offers it to the girl with the kindest expression and most welcoming smile she can muster.

The girl looks at the water, deep conflict on her face. It takes a few seconds of breathing hard, but she eventually says, “N-o, please. Stay away. I’m n-not, I’m not g-good.”

Honeymaren feels tears threatening to leak out of her eyes now. Her heart hurts so much for the girl. But she has to learn to be strong for others in need, just like what her mother said, and so she swallows the giant lump in her throat and keeps pushing gently.

“That’s not possible. I don’t even know you, but I can tell that you’re good. Please, accept this? I insist?”

The girl eyes the bottle fearfully, and then looks at Honeymaren again. There’s still conflict and hesitation in her eyes, but the Northuldra can tell that she needs the water. Desperately so if she’s almost willing to reach for it. One little nod from Honeymaren and the blonde extends her left hand for the bottle, shaking slightly still.

She takes the water from Honeymaren fast. Her nervousness must be causing her powers to come out as a thin spread of ice covers the container from where her hand is holding it. The girl gasps and starts to breathe more tensely, so Honeymaren is quick to reassure her.

“It’s okay. It’ll melt.”

The girl stares at Honeymaren some more as she holds the bottle with both hands, silently asking for confirmation of permission.

“Go ahead.”

She sips slowly at first, but her thirst and need soon gets the better of her and she finishes the bottle in big gulps. Once she’s done, she looks at the iced and empty container a little guiltily. Honeymaren carefully extends her hand to get the bottle back, and the girl returns it shyly. The brunette tries not to make a loud “aww” sound because it’s just so endearing.

“There’s a nearby spring here. We can get more water on the way home later,” she says to assure the blonde, then feels her cheeks heat up as she catches her words and what they imply. Of course she doesn’t plan on leaving the girl like this, she just hopes she spoke of her invitation at a much better time and with much more conversation first.

“I mean, if you… It’s just… I… We…” She shakes her head, internally cursing herself for getting herself so worked up she gets her words jumbled.

But the other girl lets out a very bashful giggle at her distress, and it’s such a beautiful and awe-inspiring sight that she lets out a happy sound herself and even a tiny smirk as her confidence goes back.  
“I mean, I would like for you to go with me to my tribespeople. If you’re lost or if you have nowhere else to go, of course. Do you have anyone or anywhere to go here?”

The blonde looks at her nervously, then shakes her head. “I d-don’t know where I am,” she confesses in a sad and shaky whisper. “I g-got through the m-mist and now I can’t get out.”

Honeymaren nods, and makes a mental note to talk about it more later.

“Okay. Would it be fine if I bring you to our place and to the elder of our family? She might know how to heal and help you.

The girl’s face grows anxious once more, eyes leaving Honeymaren’s and moving downward again, so Honeymaren presses on.

“They’re good people. They would love to help you.”

Honeymaren is still unsure of what taking the girl with her would entail, but she has full trust in her people. They would love to take in and help a lost soul, and find a way to counter any threat. In fact, Ryder would give this girl the world once he learns that she saved Honeymaren’s life.

“I m-might h-harm them.” She couldn’t look at Honeymaren still, but the latter can tell that the blonde’s eyes are brimming with unshed tears.

“No you won’t. Especially not if they help you. I’m sure my grandmother can figure something out for you. I can’t leave you here.” She gestures around. “Our elders say this part of the woods is the most dangerous. The worst things could happen to you here. You can die.”

“M-maybe that’s for the better,” the girl whispers, and Honeymaren desperately tries to ignore the lump in her throat and the meaning behind those words. The regret and pain oozing out of the girl is so heavy that its weight pulls at Honeymaren’s heart as well. She wonders how someone this pure and soft could ever think she’s a danger to anyone or anything.

“Please. Just let me help you,” she manages to press out of her partially closed throat.

Honeymaren is never one to plead, but she’s so heartbroken that she can’t help it this time. The dam breaks. She isn’t able to stop the tears from leaking down her face, and she wipes at them hastily, ashamed for such showcase of weakness when she’s supposed to be the strong one. Her brother says she has too much compassion in her and she realizes he probably is right. She must look so pathetic now.

A tiny voice breaks through her little breakdown.

“P-please don’t cry.”

The Northuldra raises her head, surprised. The blonde is looking at her now with such a guilty face, her own eyes shining with forming tears. She’s biting her lip, frowning deeply, and the sight is so sad but so cute it’s almost enough to give Honeymaren hope.

“I’m s-sorry, Honeymaren,” she says further. The girl sounds so distressed at this point but at the same time her name sounds like nothing else coming from the blonde, and something inside Honeymaren’s chest shifts.

“No, no, no. Don’t be. I just can’t help but cry sometimes,” she reassures immediately, surprised at herself as she lets out a soft chuckle. She’s feeling so silly but also so emotional. This is insane. “I’m silly like that. I’m okay.”

The other woman still looks guilty though, as her eyes move downwards again. Honeymaren doesn’t expect her to say anything so the next thing that happens shocks her.

“E-Elsa,” the girl whispers.

Honeymaren gasps a bit. “I’m sorry?”

“My name,” the girl says, shakily meeting her eyes once more. “I’m E-Elsa.”

A happy little laugh uncontrollably escapes from Honeymaren’s lips. She can’t describe the relief and pride she feels having been trusted with this information. She hopes she doesn’t look like a lunatic to the other girl because of the uncontrollable relief she feels must be shining on her face.

Suddenly finding the courage to fight for her cause once more, she gently asks, “Would you please come with me and allow me to help you, Elsa?”

She savors the feeling of saying the girl’s name for the first time: it’s sort of magical and easy and natural, almost like she’s meant to say that name all her life. She dismisses the implication of that feeling for now, and does her best to focus on Elsa.

The blonde’s face displays the same conflicting emotions earlier, perhaps stronger now, but there’s some trust in her eyes as she looks at Honeymaren longer than she ever did today. The Northulda almost cries again when Elsa lets out a soft and hesitant, but clear reply.

“O-okay.”

/

The walk to the Northuldra’s huts is mostly silent, and Honeymaren allows it to be, only injecting in a few details about the tribe from time to time. Elsa has decided to trust her and she promises to do well on that trust. She’s not going to push the girl and ask questions this early on in the journey. Right now they’re just walking, or in Elsa’s case limping, back to Honeymaren’s place. The blonde has been making sure to keep a safe distance from her, though, arms are crossed in front of her, hugging herself, eyes downcast the whole time.

Honeymaren knows it’s because the girl is afraid to hurt her for some reason even if it’s very unlikely to her. Unimaginable even.

The moon is bright and the salamander, who is walking a bit ahead of them, is providing them some light and warmth. Honeymaren sneaks a glance at the girl from time to time. Elsa seems to grow paler as they trudge on, and her steps seem heavier. Honeymaren frown as her worry escalates.

She’s quite sure she saw some blood on Elsa’s dress earlier but it’s gone now. She doesn’t notice when or how it went away. As someone who prides herself for keen eyesight, she knows what she saw, and wonders how it is possible that the blood, if it was indeed blood, is mysteriously gone.

The salamander would stop from time to time, eyes darting frequently between the two of them. Elsa would seldom feed it with her snowflakes, her sad eyes showing a bit of light every time the salamander enjoys her offering.

And Honeymaren enjoys watching them both. Maybe a little too much.

The next few minutes of their walk remains silent but weirdly comfortable. That is until Elsa lets out some ragged coughs that sounded painful, making Honeymaren wince.

One glance at the girl tells her that she has grown even sickly-looking. Elsa is obviously in a terrible condition and Honeymaren wishes she would allow her to check on her and her possible injuries. When Elsa sways a bit, but thankfully catches herself again, Honeymaren forces herself not to come close to help because she knows it’s unwanted, and comes to a decision.

“I think we should take a rest for now. Our huts are still quite far and you look like you’re about to faint.”

Perhaps because she is in no condition to refuse such suggestion, Elsa just nods, regret apparent on her face. “I’m s-sorry,” she whispers.

Honeymaren lets out a silent sigh. She wishes the girl would stop apologizing because it’s breaking her heart every time she does.

“Don’t worry about it. I need the rest, too, if I have to be honest. There’s a nice clearing just a few steps from here where we can lie comfortably and build fire. Do you think you can you walk just a bit further?”

Elsa gives her a weak half-smile. “Y-yes. It’s fine.”

Honeymaren wishes that she can help her so bad but she knows enough to respect her boundaries. So she just gives her a soft, comforting smile, and starts to walk slowly ahead, frowning as Elsa coughs some more and her steps get more sluggish.

It’s going to be a long, tough night.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. So there it is. Comments will be greatly appreciated. :)


End file.
